I’m Finally Ready To Stand Up Against My Mother’s Abuse
Prologue: The Son’s Story
Eighteen months ago, a harrowing truth was unveiled that forced me to face the darkness that had engulfed me since I was a little boy. The deep pain — my life’s silent friend — had finally found its cause.
Within seconds of my mind opening to reality, all of the missing dots joined together like puzzle pieces falling into place. I was then overwhelmed with horror as my body responded in ways I had never experienced before.
This day marked the beginning of my spiritual awakening, and it was one of the most profound moments of my life.
My Awakening
I very much doubt there is a person in this world who would want to sit in front of a computer screen, trying to find the words to convey the weight of abuse that they endured from their mother. It feels horrific in every sense of the word: a soul death.
Part of what it means to be human is to have a nurturing and loving mother. When you lack a healthy frame of reference, and when few are witness to what goes on behind closed doors, you naturally grow up blaming yourself.
My mother shattered my trust in unimaginable ways right from day one. As I make this transition into adulthood, I’ve come to realise just how emotionally violated, entirely alone and scared of the world I feel as a result of her behaviours and actions.
When I used to reflect on my childhood, countless question marks encircled my thoughts, and they became increasingly prevalent as I entered my twenties.
With no idea of what it was my brain was trying to make sense of, it would tend to latch onto recollections of materialistic nostalgia: the detached family house, the shiny new boat, the jet ski, the caravan getaway, the ever-changing range of sports and family cars, and the large wooden decking courageously built by my Dad and his half-brother.
We were fortunate to have these things. Dad was the breadwinner, you see. He had his own optometry business where he worked 6 days a week and long hours. It allowed us plenty of opportunity amidst the chaos.
It’s my understanding, however, that these images played an essential role — they were like a blanket, shielding and diverting my psyche from the dark reality of the youth that my younger sister and I shared. It was the perfect camouflage.
The day I woke up, I soon learned I had two options:
1) Continue listening to that inner critic. Keep abusing myself with the shame-bound beliefs that she pushed down my throat. Remain the inconspicuous, vulnerable, codependent little boy that my conditioning insists I am.
2) Embrace healing. Understand that it was never my fault. Come to terms with the fact that it is not my responsibility to heal my mother (a subconscious aim in all my romantic relationships). Offer myself the love that I lacked and break free from generational trauma.
These chapters are a testament to the latter and will serve as a place to aid the journey.
Narcissistic Parental Alienation Syndrome
After my parents’ divorce at the age of 12, moving into a bungalow with my mother marked a significant change in our family of four. Each weekly visit to see our Dad with my sister would provide peace, warmth, and relief, but there was never any deep questioning over what I was getting relief from.
He made much effort with his kids; I felt his love. He was the same as he was when I was young — he was the light. We laughed. We engaged. We spent quality time outdoors and watched movies together — something I’d never do with the other parent. But I began to change drastically around him. I began to disengage out of fear. As time passed, the complexity of my feelings became more apparent. I didn’t understand why I began to hold so much anger towards him, but I do now:
As I work through therapy and peel back layers of the past, I’ve come to understand that my mother significantly negatively influenced my thoughts and perspectives about my Dad after their divorce. She used his suicide attempts, among many other things which I will discuss in future chapters, as ammunition to alienate him from his children. He had been greatly damaged after their marriage, and because of his unprocessed trauma, he felt like there was no other way out.
As the scapegoat child, I became the sole emotional punchbag for all my mother’s rage and hatred, which she could no longer project on to her (ex) husband. I was greatly weaponised — something that, as a young teenager, I could not understand or cope with. I became a dissociated mess. With her as my primary caregiver, I had no choice but to go along with her ways, and I was quickly made to forget about the good memories of him.
Despite the authentic love and support he offers, my conditioning has continued through to this day in ways that we are both now fully conscious of and working through. It is so incredibly painful to witness yourself acting in hurtful ways towards someone who is showing you nothing but unconditional love. It is a type of horror I wish upon nobody. Thankfully, it is gradually beginning to fade as my subconscious begins to trust him again. I now see him as the man he always truly has been, and it’s so beautiful.
I’ll leave a link below if you want to read up on this further:
I hold many intense feelings like guilt, shame, and regret over lost time. I howl, feeling my Dad’s pain. I howl over what I didn’t know. I howl for almost losing him. For a long time, I felt like it was my fault — and I held on to that. There was a big chance that we never could have had this relationship today if his suicide attempts had been successful. It’s tragic and disorienting being an adult-child survivor of parental alienation, and it really is a miracle that you’re reading these words today.
Navigating survival in life with my mother led to the development of many learned behaviours and defence mechanisms. My Dad and I call these “narcissistic fleas.”
He has helped in ways that words cannot fully express in recent months, putting his health on the line to support my journey of self-understanding. His blog and deep inner work have inspired and guided me enormously. I was denied a voice growing up, and my Dad has strongly encouraged me to find it through ways such as an online presence.
So, hi, everyone!
I aim to reach out to those parents whose children are growing emotionally distant as a result of parental alienation, as well as to the scapegoats, the golden children, and anyone else who is on a journey towards healing.
And, if ever the day comes when my sister decides to recognise the pain that I see in her, I sincerely hope that my words will provide her with comfort and understanding and allow her to see me and my actions in a new light.
I love you dearly, sister.
Smear Campaigns And The Family Scapegoat
Usually, waking up in the mornings brings intense fear about many things, one of which is the lack of validation from family. Your world becomes an excruciatingly lonely place when those who have been by your side all your life suddenly withdraw or distance themselves when ‘family drama’ occurs.
Sadly, when speaking up about how I feel and what has happened in my life, this has stopped many from reaching out with an open mind. They choose to believe one side without hearing the other.
For those who have listened to my cries for support, their unwillingness to accept it comes from a deep pit of denial. This, despite it being horrific to witness in others, I can understand. I was battling with denial for over a year after discovering the truth, despite being a main player in the story.
My question for them is: Would you believe someone in your family if they told you they had been sexually abused by a person who you thought you could trust? Just because you haven’t seen it does not mean it hasn’t happened.
Any form of dismissal, justification or refusal to acknowledge someone’s lived experience are all forms of abuse, by the way. It can harm your nervous system, as it has mine profusely.
Unfortunately, this is the reality of the situation when your mother spreads falsehoods and sways others to believe certain things about you and your Dad. Sound familiar?
My mother constantly plays the victim, refusing to acknowledge the harm she has caused her children and ex-husband. She denies her actions to everyone, including herself. Acknowledging the consequences of her behaviour would shatter the facade she has built around her life and force her to come face-to-face with buried emotional wounds which have been shoved deep, and I mean REALLY deep down, behind her narcissistic defences.
The shame she would need to feel would be seismic. Instead, she would sooner cut off her child’s support system in order to protect herself.
It’s dark. It’s real. And it IS happening.
This is the reason that very few people in my family truly know who I am. They saw me last as a small, fragile young man. But my mother kept me there — that is not my true essence. One of my family members knows me well, and unsurprisingly, he’s also a scapegoat but doesn’t realise it.
They are all placing the blame on my Dad for my 'erratic' behaviour of late, which is the complete opposite of the truth. Given that he is the scapegoat in our system, there’s no wonder. It’s an easy way out for everyone; they put the blame on him to avoid feeling any guilt or shame for not hearing the gritty truth behind both his and his son’s pain.
I’m starting to realise throughout this journey that maintaining relationships with people who support a dishonest narrative leaves me feeling far lonelier than surrounding myself with those who have known me for mere months and appreciate the real me. They provide a sincere ear to my story. That is family.
Having emerged from denial, cognitive dissonance, and enormous heartache (although very much still ongoing), this experience has allowed me to thoroughly embrace what happened.
I hope what I write will inspire you to have courage, to step back from the toxic cloud you’re trapped in, and to know that what happened to you was not okay.
Little Me is so desperate to share his story.
Thank you so much for reading.
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